


You Aren't A Murderer

by RedderThanFire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, F/M, post- finn's death, post- spacewalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:19:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedderThanFire/pseuds/RedderThanFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2x08 "Spacewalker"</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Aren't A Murderer

Her golden hair was tangled into a matted knot, and dried blood was caked across half of her face. The knife still sat in her hand, dripping with his blood. She had made it back to camp in a daze, void of any emotion. It was if all of them were lost when she stabbed him. Familiar faces blurred around her; Raven's hysterical screams echoed through the air.

"He loved you!" Raven cried, tears falling down her cheeks."He loved you." Silent sobs racked through Clarke's body and she clasped to her knees, still clutching the knife. The last thing she had of him. The world fell apart, the entire camp silent, safe for Raven. The entire camp watching her with horror behind their eyes.

Their Princess had added another death to her list; Atom, three hundred grounders, and now Finn. Clarke Griffin sure didn't upkeep the stereotypes.

 _It was your fault_ , the voices in her head told her. _If you hadn't..._ She laughed then, through her tears. Clawing her free hand at the dirt every memory of Earth passing through her mind. Only, what she thought would be moments filled with Finn, were those with Bellamy instead.

 _Bellamy_ threatening to cut her hand off. _Bellamy_ pulling her out of a grounder trap. _Bellamy_ threatening to kill Wells. _Bellamy_ being unable to kill Atom. _Bellamy_ hanging Murphy. _Bellamy_ forgiving Charlotte. _Bellamy_ looking up at the night sky. _Bellamy_ at the campfire. _Bellamy_ teaching her to shoot. _Bellamy_ looking out for Octavia, for everyone.

The list went on and on, and her head cleared out enough for her to look for him. Tall and dark and freckled. It wasn't until then she noticed that her surroundings had changed. She now sat in a dark tent, a shadowed figure silhouetted against the door flap.

"She did what she had to do." A deep voice growled. Bellamy. "That was the _bravest_ and _hardest_ thing anyone of us has ever done. And if you don’t think that too then you are lying to yourself. She needs to sleep."

"Yes she needs to sleep. In _her own tent_." Another voice snapped. Abby. " _Not_ with a criminal. "

"Her own tent isn't safe right now. And I'm never going to take advantage of her that way. " Bellamy said calmly, yet his voice still held an edge. "And in case you didn't notice; she is _also_ a criminal. It’s why you sent her here."

He entered the tent, surprised to see her consciously staring at him. Her once bright blue eyes were now dull and shadowed with the horrors she had just faced. She looked nothing like the fair princess he held dear to him, she looked shattered. She looked lifeless.

"You did what you had to do." He told her, reaching for a blanket for her. "It could've ended a lot worse for him-for all of us." He didn't try to sugarcoat it, didn't dare tell him that it was okay, that everything was fine. It was just a leader assessing the problem. "Here." He said, wrapping the scratchy material of the blanket around her frail figure, silently afraid she will collapse. "You are going to freeze."

"How do you do it?" Clarke whispered, her voice almost inaudible, clutching the fabric around her tighter. "How can you stay so composed, when everything is falling apart."

He smiled at her, raising a hand to wipe the tears away from her face. “Its because everything is falling apart that I need to stay composed. If everyone was to come undone, then all the hope is lost." "Where did you get that line?" Her small voice said again, her blue eyes looking into his brown ones; his eyes were the only constant on this damned planet.

"Where do you think?" He grins, dark curls falling into his eyes. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "It's not something you _said_ exactly. Its more of something you represent. Something the rest of us look to you for."

"But I'm a murderer Bellamy."

" _No._ You aren't." His eyes glowed darker, frustrated with the fact that he couldn't fix this. Could only comfort her, which she wouldn't want. "Now go to sleep."

He stood up, turning to the door flap when her hand grasped his. Looking down at her, blue eyes somewhat coming alive again, her face puffy from the tears. The look on her face was so fragile that when Clarke whispered _stay_. That is exactly what he did.


End file.
